


A World of Peace

by LyricDreamweaver



Category: Peacecraft, World of Warcraft
Genre: Fairy Tale Elements, Honeymoon, Humor, M/M, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Peace, Pwp comes later, Romance, True Love, True Love's Kiss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 14:01:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12367254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LyricDreamweaver/pseuds/LyricDreamweaver
Summary: Many try to rouse the martyr Raandyy from his slumber but only True Love's Kiss can awaken him from his slumber. Varok Saurfang travels an eternity and back to find the Gnome who had kissed him in the face of danger. Together, they forge a peace to last.





	A World of Peace

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to thank Griffin McElroy, BadRaandyy, and the World of Warcraft Wikipedia.

Hundreds of hands had carried the glass casket hundreds of miles. Inside lay the bones of everyone's hero, the martyr, Raandyy the rogue. Every druid and every priest had offered the same explanation:

To awaken and restore Raandyy to his proper form, it would take true love's kiss.

Every member of the guild had tried, each kissing his cheekbone or laying lips on his forehead. 

None had succeeded. 

Finally in a state of desperation, the entire guild of Raandyy's had hired a small boat from the docks to take the glass casket across the water to Janeiro's Point. There, Mok'rash the Cleaver heard about the group, looking at them strangely.

They pleaded to just let them house the casket on the island so Raandyy could await his one true love.

Mok'rash thought this was noble and agreed, helping the guild move the casket higher up toward the base of the statue on Janeiro's Point.

There, the guild established a camp closer toward the shore. Bedrolls were laid out, tents raised, campfires made up. It was not uncommon to see blood elves and night elves working together to bring in the kelp and fish from the sea to feed their camp. Often, Draenei and Taurens would go into town to barter for things like bread and booze, bringing it back. Dwarves and Orcs could strike up friendly conversations over bottles of mead and rum. Human paladins and priests shared their stories and magic with Troll shamans, each healing in the ways they knew best.

Here, on Janeiro's Point, peace reigned for ten years.

Slowly though, members of the guild began to leave. Some went off to seek their own destinies or travel on their own peaceful quests. Some simply faded from the land, never to return. A stalwart few remained, offering pearls and flowers to the casket of their martyr, the one who had forged such a sturdy peace.

Then, it happened.

A golden wyvern with wings wide enough to block out the sun circled high above the island, lowering itself in a tight spiral, landing hard enough to shake the earth, wire-sharp claws digging into the sand of the shore. the wyvern gave a loud shriek before letting its rider—a solitary orc—off from its back. 

"What business have you here?" asked a human priest named Villetta Cromwell. 

A trio of goblins—the Saltydigger triplets—circled the orc, inspecting him. "He brings lots of sharp little swords."

"Begone, you overgrown green rats," the orc grumbled.

A troll with one broken tusk and the name Jarunma folded his arms, eyes narrowed. "We're peaceful. You're not. Leave."

"No," the orc said. "I am Varok Saurfang and I've been searching for the one you call Raandyy."

Villetta looked at Jarunma, who raised a bright red brow.

"We should let him try," the troll said.

"I won't like it," Villetta said. "Nezdaza?"

And just like that, Saurfang's blades were gone, the goblin's fingers quicker than they looked. The one female, Nezdaza, grinned, burying them in the sand some ways off and marking it with an elaborate cone of rocks.

"Come," Jarunma said. "You wanted to see Raandyy."

Saurfang followed the Troll with slow, measured steps. "So he finally did it? He forged a peace between Horde and Alliance?"

"Somewhat," Jarunma said. "We all work to be as peaceful as Raandyy would have wanted us to be."

And Saurfang watched a Draenei child playing with two young orcs, all three laughing and enjoying their game of ball. When the Draenei kicked it too close, Saurfang nudged the ball back toward the Draenei.

"Thanks, mister!"

That smile, with a missing front tooth and eyes half-closed, had Saurfang grinning, just slightly. It selt the old orc’s heart at east.

Jarunma was smiling as well. "So you know Raandyy?"

They climbed the iron ramp up to the statue, the ramp being a gift from a now-gone Dwarf who insisted on ramps for those who had trouble getting up stairs.

"All I am saying is that it wouldn't be right to move him now," an undead woman rasped.

"And I think we should build something better," a Draenei replied. 

"What's the problem?" Jarunma asked both women.

"Jalrah wants to desecrate the casket by making something she things is better," the undead huffed in her deep and gravelly voice. "It's sacrilege."

"And I think Helena is being too uptight about it," Jalrah said, folding her arms over her chest.

Jarunma looked between the two women. "Jalrah, why don't you see what Cogkettle and Steelshaper could do with the casket. Helena, you can stay here, if you feel it's sacrilege."

Saurfang watched the Draenei walk off, head high with pride. "Do you lead them, then?"

"No," Jarunma said approaching the casket and moving withered flowers out of the way. "But they look to me and Villetta for guidance."

The casket was ornate and Saurfang felt a pang of bittersweet pride in his chest. "He died well?"

"Not dead," Helena rasped. "Sleeping the ancient sleep of a martyr."

"Many have tried to rouse him from his sleep," Jarunma said, fingers tracing the gold frame, wiping at the glass. 

Helena finished, "All have failed."

"But we've been waiting," the troll said. "Waiting for someone worthy of Raandyy to rouse him from this slumber."

With a click of a latch, Jarunma swung open the top half of the casket. Raandyy's bones laid on soft, purple velvet pillows. Saurfang approached, then dropped onto one knee. Tears welled up in the old orc's eyes. This was the gnome who had come, settled on his throne, and kissed him despite the danger. This was the gnome who had inspired such a journey from Orgimmar.

His lips found the skeleton's teeth to be harsh and cold and unforgiving.

Then he found them to be soft and warm.

Jarunma gave a low gasp while Helena made some banshee-wail of triumph.

"Where am I?" squeaked the gnome. "Oh . . . Saurfang. you're here."

"I'll get Villetta," Helena said, using her rouge-sprint to make her way to the camp.

"Raandyy," Saurfang said, scooping up the gnome, holding him in his arms. "I thought I would never find you again."

"And, Saurfang, I thought you were so busy with the Horde and all that junk."

"Never too busy for you," Saurfang said. "I had hoped you would return to me."

"This is just as good," Raandyy said.

"It's true!" Villetta gasped. "I thought he was dead for sure."

"It helps to have faith," Jarunma quipped, grinning lopsidedly at her. "You owe me six copper and a bottle of mead."

Villetta sighed, pulling the copper from a pocket of her robe. 

"Raandyy," Saurfang said. "Let's get married."

"Really?" Raandyy asked.

"Our marriage will be proof that Alliance and Horde can coexist in peace." Saurfang gestured to the camp below. "I've seen your tenets work."

Raandyy looked down at the camp that had been erected during his slumber. 

The Draenei child was still kicking a ball back and forth with the two orc children. A Forsaken man shuffled nervously before the tent of a night elf, the former offering flowers to the latter. A goblin woman and a gnome woman walked along the shores of the island, hand in hand. 

Villetta put an arm around Jarunma's waist. "We all did as you would have wanted, Raandyy."

Jarunma nodded. "Peaceful. Quiet. Happy."

Saurfang said softly, "I would like for you to be happy, Raandyy."

"I'd like to be happy too, Saurfang," Raandyy answered.

The Gnome leaned in, kissing the Orc tenderly.

"So I talked to—Oh." Jalrah shuffled her hooves. "I suppose we won't be needing the new casket then?"


End file.
